


everything comes back to you

by 1031



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9535868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1031/pseuds/1031
Summary: a (hopefully) growing collection of my 1d tumblr fics





	1. paynlinshaw

It’s not supposed to be a competition. But being in a three way polyamorous relationship sometimes, not too frequently, but occasionally, Nick will admit, brings out the more competitive side of him, of them all really, and normally it’s not a huge deal: who can make the best breakfast (Louis claims defeat right away, declares himself the judge and reaps the rewards of two delicious meals, then claims it a tie), who go the longest without having a wank (normally done when the boys are on tour, and surprisingly it’s Liam who gives up first, if only skype Nick with Louis next to him and slowly, leisurely tease himself whilst the others try to continue on as normal (they never can)), who can last the longest while being held down by one partner and ridden by the other (they’ve never actually collected any solid data on this, mainly because they tend to lose track of time once things get started, not to say that it’s stopped them from trying), even something as simple as who can be serious the longest (depends on what they’re doing; Louis will always crack when Pigs involved, and Nick will always crack for Louis). 

But, and he could be wrong but he doubts it, but he doesn’t think proposals were meant to happen like this.

It starts innocently enough: Nick and Liam are on the couch, waiting for Louis to get home so they could go get dinner; Liam’s on his phone, eyes squinty and teeth digging into his lower lip as he types something out, and Nick can’t stop watching him. It’s not until he opens his mouth and a soft, "marry me" slips out that he even realizes that’s what he’d been thinking. 

It takes a few seconds for either of them to realize what he said; when Liam’s eyes meet Nick’s both sets are wide and Liam laughs a bit, incredulously, before crawling up Nick’s body and settling himself over him, crinkled eyes focused only on him. “Marry you, huh?” he leans forward and brushes their noses together lightly, the way he knows Nick loves. “That kind of came out of nowhere don’t you think?”

Nick lifts his arms up and wraps them around Liam’s neck. “I don’t think so, we’re together, have been properly for a while, I love you, I love Louis, I think we’re all solid-” he’s cut off by Liam’s mouth on his, firm and insistent even when the front door opens to reveal a shivering boyfriend. 

“Oi, what’s going on here then?” Nick doesn’t have to look to know Louis’ hands are on his hips, and his eyes are sparkling.

Liam pulls away and Nick chases his lips, tasting laughter that spills out of him. “Well, Lou, Nick here’s just proposed.”

Nick oomphs as Louis hops over the sofa and onto them both. 

“Hey, hey, hey that’s not fair. I miss everything.”

Liam wiggles until he can slide out from between them and they each wrap an arm around Louis, cocooning him. Liam places a soft kiss to his temple. “Louis. Will you marry us?”

“Wait now, hold on a tic, no fair asking questions when you haven’t even answered yours.”

Liam rolls his eyes, and places one hand on Nick’s cheek. “Like I wouldn’t marry you.”

Nick turns his head slightly to kiss Liam’s hand, then turns back to Louis. “Now, what about you?”

“I mean, obviously, but I didn’t get to ask anyone and that seems unfair.”

It all, somehow, goes sideways from there. 

When Nick gets home from the studio the next day, Pig’s wearing a frankly ridiculous bow and a sign that requests his presence in the garden. He goes and he’s met with the most gorgeous set up of lights and flowers and all the ridiculously romantic things that he’d once imagined a proposal should be. And there, in the middle of it all, are his boys.

Nick’s in complete awe and when he comes to stand in front of them, he’s not entirely sure what to say, or how to say it, but it’s okay, because Louis says it for him.

“I’m absolutely in love you, Nick Grimshaw. You make our lives so much better just by being in it, you’re so full of life and you’re so kind. You always said that you couldn’t do relationships, but you’re wrong, because you’ve been in this from the very beginning, completely. And we want to be in it with you, until we have no other choice because we’re old and wrinkly and can’t get it up.” Nick laughs as Liam elbows him in side, and Louis just grins. “What do ya say?”

And Nick can’t breathe past the lump and the love in his throat but he nods his head and pulls them both into him, tighter and tighter until he can push the one word up, out of his mouth and into the open. “Yes.”

Nick would’ve been happy, is happy with that. But it keeps going and he does too.

The next day there are balloons and a literal crate of cereal in the kitchen with a hastily scribbled ‘marry me, idiot’ scrawled on the side in Liam’s handwriting. They both take Liam to Disney and propose twice, Nick under the fireworks and Louis in Hogwarts. Liam takes Louis to a Rovers game and asks him on the pitch after the game. Nick gets pulled on stage with Beyoncé and asked in front of thousands of people.

Harry calls and asks, “So. Are you all engaged or what?”

Nick can only sigh. “That’s a difficult question Harry Styles.”

He gets hung up on.

He’s been proposed to more times in the past two months than he ever dreamt possible, but there’s been no talk of a wedding or even a mention of that first night. He’s scared to look at the sky in case someone’s hired another skywriter. 

A few days later, and he’s sitting in much the same position, only in their bed instead of the couch, as that night months ago, his boys tired and droopy against him due to promo and talks of a new tour. He knows he should probably wait, but he needs to know, for sure, where they stand.

“Hey. I need to know, like, what it is we’re doing?”

Louis turns his head to level him with a confused look. “What do you mean? In regards to what?”

Nick gestures between them all. “This. Us. Like, are we all engaged or…has this just been another game?”

Liam’s eyes widen, but Louis’ lower into a glare. “Is that what it’s been to you, Nick?”

“No! No, not. Like, that first night, on the sofa I thought we were good, but then it just kept going and getting more and more crazy and ridiculous that I wasn’t sure.”

“You weren’t sure? Weren’t sure about what exactly?”

“Lou, c’mon, I just meant-”

Liam sits up suddenly, throwing legs and arms aside as he gets up to stand in the middle of the room. “Nick, if you’re not sure. If this isn’t what you want, I need to know.”

“Li, no, of course not, I’m just trying to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Louis’ gone to stand next to Liam and Nick suddenly feels cold, in this too big bed by himself. “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about right now.”

“Why’d you go along with it?” And Nick recognizes Louis’ defensive stance, arms folded and feet spread apart.

“You both were so excited about doing these things for each other, I’m not going to say no.”

Liam’s face is contorted into a weird mixture of anger and fear and exasperation and Nick doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s never been faced with that on Liam before.

“We just wanted to make it special, Nick, for all of us. And it was fun, all the things we did, yeah? We just wanted to properly ask you, at first-”

“Properly ask me? So what I did wasn’t a proper asking? It wasn’t enough?”

“You looked so scared!”

“Well of course I did, I didn’t mean to say it, it just popped out!”

Liam’s face falls, all anger falling away and Nick’s stomach drops along with it. “That’s not-”

“Stop, Nick. Let’s just. Stop this, right here.” Louis rubs a tired hand down his face. “I think I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight. Just take a little time.”

He walks off down the hall and Nick watches until he’s vanished around a corner and still, until he hears the soft latch of the door before he turns back to Liam. “You know, that’s not. Li.” But Liam just shakes his head lightly and turns to go downstairs, leaving Nick alone, in the doorway of their bedroom. 

Nick sleeps in that too big bed alone, and he lasts all of an hour before sitting up and picking up his laptop. He’ll fix this, he just needs a little bit of time.

It’s a miserable the next day, the three tiptoeing around each other like they hadn’t since before they all got their shit together and decided to be together, officially and completely. Nick misses them, in a way he didn’t know was possible while still being under the same roof. 

But the next morning he’s up before either of the others, and sneaks out the front door with the sun. He’d left them a note, telling them when to be ready, and all he can do is hope that they’re both still there when he gets back. 

It’s late afternoon when he does, and when he pulls up he’s met with the sight of both his boys standing on the doorstep, waiting for him. He ushers them both into the car and takes off again, navigating the light traffic with ease. No one says anything, though he can see their intertwined hands in the rear view mirror and when he catches their eyes they each offer him a small, knowing, smile. So maybe telling Harry wasn’t the best choice.

He pulls to a stop in front of the registers office and tugs them both out onto the sidewalk before taking both their hands in his.

“I love you. Both of you, completely and utterly and stupidly. Okay? I love you both a ridiculous amount, I want that forever, and I want to put rings on your fingers because I get it. I get the songs you sing and the stupid films and books and all the true love nonsense that I never really believed in until you both, I get it,” his fingers are about to fall off with the force that they’re all holding on to one another, and his eyes flick back and forth between the two of them, Louis’ bright and suspiciously wet and Liam’s soft and certain; and he wants nothing more than to kiss them until none of them can breathe, except from the air they trade between them. He squeezes their hands tighter still. “And I want to marry you both. Right now. Please, Louis. Liam. Loves. Marry me.”

They do.


	2. paynlinshaw + things your said under the stars and in the grass

Sometimes, when something feels important, feels big, significant, like someday when it’s close to being over this will be a thing he wants to remember, he tries to memorize it; tries to commit every little, tiny detail to memory. Right now, the blanket below him is soft, the grass below it cushioning it from the hard ground, still holding a chill even after the first real, warm day of summer; it tickles his arms where they rest above his head, his hand tangled with another: blunt, bitten off fingernails, strong and sturdy, chevrons pointed up, up, up, stark and strong even after all these years. 

That same, deep, dark green stains the bottom of the persons next to hims feet, dirty from running around after a football all day and seemingly allergic to water, it matches the green of the pillow underneath their head, hung low in sleep, eyes dancing behind closed eyelids, always dreaming a million impossible dreams. If he looks up he can barely make out the stars, a seemingly endless stretch away, but he knows they’re there, and if his life has taught him anything, it’s that sometimes you have to believe, even if it’s not in front of you; and he takes comfort in that knowledge, in their constant light, shining so, so brightly for everyone to see, if they choose to look up. 

There’s a warm weight on his chest, an arm, familiar and comforting, a rope, like the one around their wrist, tying them together and he matches his breath to theirs, like he always has, always will and he breathes, breathes, breathes. 

The fingers in his tighten, the fingers at his waist brush back and forth, and he asks: ‘did you ever imagine it would be like this?’ and looking down, seeing his children curled up on either side of him, his children with dirty feet and wild hair, who’s smiles mean more to him than anything, his, their children bracketed in by the two people he loves, has loved, will love for so, so long, he knows their answers. It’s the same as his. No. And if he had, he wouldn’t have even been able to come close to this.


	3. paynlinshaw+kid fic

The first time Liam holds his daughter, it’s six days after she’s born. She’s a tiny, red-faced scrunch of a thing, still recovering from her time spent in an incubator, small and fragile and so, so, lovely and Liam isn’t sure if he’ll ever get the sight of her, newly born and pale and not making a sound out of his mind completely, but for now, as he traces her cheek with his finger, and he sees her eyes move beneath her closed lids he tries. Because she’s here, she’s with him. With them. And she’s perfect.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Hi, baby.” He glances up towards the ceiling, pushing the tears back because he’s cried enough over the past week and this is not a moment to be sullied by more. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We waited so long for you, and now you’re here and I’m never going to be the same, I’m never going to let you go. Your dads and I, it’s gonna be hard sometimes, living this life you’ve been thrown into, but you will never be without love.” He tears his eyes away from her, this beautiful life that he’s been given, and looks to the other two people in the room.

Nick and Louis are both slumped on the small couch, hair disheveled and dark circles under their eyes; they look tired even in sleep and Liam’s never loved them more.

Looking back down, his daughter’s eyes are open, and he smiles, cuddling her closer still. “Hello. It’s so good to see you awake, love. I’m so glad you’re here. We all are. Your dad and your papa and I, we’ve wanted you for so long. Christ, I didn’t know it was possible to love this much.” He clears his throat, blinking past the coarseness of unslept nights and lingering worry in his eyes and stands, then sits himself back down between the two men who’ve been there, though everything, for everything, and finally, exhales, and lets them meet their daughter.  
\------------  
Nick has held his daughter more times than he can count. Through her early nights, her earaches, teething, the first time she caught more than a sniffle and the whole house flew into a frenzy, through bad dreams and special occasions; she has always had the most perfect home in his arms. She’s a stubborn, freckle-faced pint of a thing, and now she’s turning six and its Nicks turn to wake her up for school. He stands in her doorway for a few, marveling at her ability to stretch her tiny body across the whole expanse of her bed, before coming over and lowering himself down beside her, brushing her curly, unruly hair back from her face.

“Hiya,” he whispers. “Hi, love.” She snuffles, the lightest sleeper he’s ever known, and curls herself up, head resting underneath his chin. “Good morning Miss Simone.”

His daughter wiggles a little closer. “Morning, dad,” she mumbles, still half asleep. He taps her nose, once, twice, three times.

“I believe it’s someone’s birthday around here, what’d you know about that?” She giggles, his favorite sound in the world, but doesn’t respond. “Hmmmmm. I feel like I should know this, is it Pickles’ birthday? Maybe I need to ask your daddy. He always knows what’s going on.”

Little feet kick at his legs. “No, dad, it’s not Pickles’ birthday, it’s mine!” Nick laughs and picks her up, lifting her into the air, as she shrieks and grins so wide his heart wants to stop it’s so full, then settles her back on his chest, his arms tight around her.

“Will you tell me a story for my birthday?”

“Of course, my little love, what would you like?”

“Tell me about how you and daddy and papa fell in love.”

He pushes his grin into the top of her head. “That’s one of my favorites. Well, this all happened a very long time ago, when your daddy and papa were in a band, with your Uncle Harry and Uncle Niall. I was best friends with Uncle Harry and he convinced me to take your papa on a date.”

“And you wooed him?”

Nick glances down at her upturned, smiling face. “How do you know about wooing little miss?”

“Uncle Harry.”

“Of course. I attempted to woo him, yes, but he was already in love with your daddy.”

Her eyes when he looks down at her again are wide and the same color as Liam’s. “What did you do?”

A laugh comes from the door, and his smile grows, if possible. “Wooed them both, didn’t I?”  
\------------  
Louis’ daughter hasn’t wanted to be held in years, too old, too mature, way too cool for any of her fathers. She’s an amazing, bright-eyed, person who loves deeply and laughs loudly and now, she’s 15 and heartbroken. She’d rushed by them all earlier in the night, door slamming behind her, and Louis’ never been intimidated by closed doors, but his knock is hesitant all the same. Her door flies open, though, and there she is, his daughter, with tears in her eyes and his hearts trips over itself when she opens her arms and he immediately folds her up against him.

“Oh, love,” he whispers. He doesn’t say anything, just rubs the palm of his hand between her shoulder blades, and he’s struck so strongly of all the times he’d done the same thing when she was so much smaller, how his hand used to cover her whole back and he wishes, more than anything, that he was still big enough to protect her from everything that sought to hurt her.

Her tears eventually stop, but she keeps her head tucked under his chin, and he makes a questioning sound when she laughs lightly. “I always thought if someone hurt me you’d be the first one out the door to hunt them down.”

He kisses her forehead. “’So did I, love. I can, though, if you want me to.”

Her arms tighten around his waist. “No, I’m glad you’re here.”

He hums, hand still smoothing circles into her back. “Have we ever told you how we picked your name?”

Her head shakes from where it rests, her unruly hair tickling his chin.

“The three of us, for different reasons, all we ever wanted was to be heard. Your daddy would be so serious, work so hard just to prove to other people that he could do anything anyone threw in front of him; he sacrificed so much, did so much, to get our music out and he fought for it and us louder than anyone else. I was just loud, screaming for attention to block out my own insecurities, and your dad, well, he made a living talking to millions of people every morning. But we’ve always heard each other, we never fought, really, truly fought, over the big things because the three of us, it was like we were tuned to each other’s frequencies, everything we needed was always loud and clear. And you, love, were the easiest thing to hear of all. The most wanted, the most loved, and that’s what Simone means. Heard.”

He pulls away to kiss her forehead again. “You will always be heard, love.”

She smiles up at him and he’s struck again by so many smiles gone by, so many years, and so much love.

And he holds on a little tighter.


	4. tomlinshaw+things you said when you were drunk

When Louis wakes up, it’s to a pounding head, a foul taste in his mouth and a note taped to his forehead. It probably says something that the paper obscuring his vision is the last thing he notices, only halfway through brushing his teeth does he realize that he’s opening his eyes but not seeing his own reflection, but he’s way to fucking hungover to figure out what it is. He does, eventually, snatch the offending paper off his head and reads it, but only after he’s made his tea and climbed back into his bed.

Tomlinson,

Oh christ, Louis knows this handwriting. 

You were quite spectacularly off your arse last night, and I’ll be surprised if you remember much of anything 

He stops and tries to think, but fuck, no, that hurts and it’s all a blur anyway, he vaguely remembers matching Niall shot for shot somewhere in the beginning but after that, it’s like everything’s on fast forward. And muted. And blurry. And shit, what did he do.

so here’s a very short, somewhat annotated list of some of the things you said to me over the course of last night.

“I want some chicken” (you and your fast food habit is disgusting)  
“Get me some chicken” (I almost considered taking you to get some but then…)  
“You kind of look like a chicken”  
“You have this face, yeah, makes you look like a chicken”  
“That’s the one!”  
“It’s good, I love chicken”  
“I actually like your hair” (I like yours too)  
“and your face” (ditto)  
“I like what it looks like with my hands in it” (it feels quite good too)  
“Why are you such a fucking giant”  
“I don’t want my band to break up”  
“Here take this water gun and help me find Liam” (you filled the gun with vodka, Louis, VODKA. I’ve no idea why I like you)  
“I want more”  
“I want you to tie me up” (Christ, Lou, you have no idea how hard it was for me to not fuck you, right there, in the middle of your living room)  
“Punish me, when I’m bad”  
“I want more” (you said this a lot, and it took me a stupidly long time to figure out what you meant, I’m sorry)  
“Nicholas” (this isn’t out of the ordinary, I just love it when you say my name, love the way it rolls off your tongue, the way it sounds in your mouth, when it comes across your lips)  
“I’m not sure I know who I am without them” (oh, love)  
“I am sure about you” (Louis, I’m sure about you too. I think we might’ve done this backwards)  
“Please, Nick, please get me some chicken, I’m dying” (you were lying on your kitchen floor, literally, on your back on your kitchen floor, you disgusting person)  
“If I say something will you promise to hear me out” (you just promised me a blowjob in exchange for chicken)  
“I want you to mark me up”  
“Sometimes I think about you telling me what to do, or what not to do, all kinds of things like sitting at your feet, or when to come or using the loo, and I get so hard, Nick, all the time” (this sentence is engraved, forever, in my memory Tomlinson, and we’re going to discuss all of this)  
“I just. I want more” (me too)  
“I love you” (you said more, actually, about being sorry and ruining our agreement and you ran away before I could say anything back, if you’re so sure about me why do you keep doing that?)

Also, I’m in your guest room.

Louis almost brains himself attempting to get out of his bed and across the hall and into the next room, and then yeah, there he is, sitting up against the pillows, glasses perched on his nose, phone still lit up but forgotten in his lap, looking at and through and into Louis, smile brilliant and kind. “‘I love you too, idiot.”

And Louis can’t decide between laughing hysterically or crying, because that’s all he’s wanted for so long. He climbs up onto the bed, straddling Nick’s lap to take his face into his hands, and kisses him. Slowly, so slowly, until they have to pull apart in order to catch their breath. And he has to say it again, so he can remember too, so when he looks back on this moment it’ll have everything. “I love you, Nicholas.”

“I love it when you say my name.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and grins. “I know. I’m never throwing that paper out, even though it’s completely embarrassing.”

“I think what’s more embarrassing is that I’m so gone for you I went out and got you chicken.”

Louis pulls back, eyes dramatically wide. “You didn’t.”

“Unfortunately I did. It’s in the fridge, love.” 

He kisses him three, four times in rapid succession before throwing himself off the bed. “Ugh. Best. Best boyfriend ever.” 

And well, Nick thinks as he watches Louis’ bum as he rounds the corner towards the kitchen, that’s new. That’s more. He’s more. He’s ridiculous.

It’s also perfect.


	5. zarry+things you said after it was over

The first time Zayn sees Harry, it’s been two years since he walked out the door, got on a plane, and never looked back. It’s been two years since he talked to him, heard his voice outside of his radio speakers, was squeezed by his ridiculous octopus arms, felt his smile against his neck, two years since he gave it all up. Harry doesn’t see him though, or if he has already he doesn’t make a move to cross the room, and Zayn’s not sure how he feels about that; he looks good though, hair still long enough to pull back, his clothes are simple though, almost like he’s trying to blend in to the dark corners of the bar, and he wonders what it is that’s making him want to disappear, if it’s the general tiredness he knows Harry gets sometimes, when he can’t stand other people but hates being alone more, or it’s something else, something he doesn’t know, doesn’t get to know because he walked out two years ago and didn’t look back. 

He has a round sent to their table and when the waitress gestures over to him, he lifts his drink in greeting and Harry meets his steady gaze for a long time, studying him, and Zayn recognizes his eyes, but not what’s behind them, and that’s new, that’s so new that it almost brings him to his knees because all he wanted was distance, all he wanted was to get as far away from what his life had been, because he may have lied about some things but not about the weight, the crushing expectations that laid on them like blankets, warm at first, but warmth turned into heat, stifling, smothering heat, but he’d forgotten how distance changes people. It changed him, why wouldn’t it have touched those he left, and maybe he’d been naive to think that they’d be able to fall back into each other whenever he was ready, that they’d stay stagnant as he changed. That’s not how life works, nothing is stagnant, ever. Lives change, bodies, minds, goals and dreams and priorities, they all change and shift and while he was busy chasing his own he missed theirs. 

And all he can do is raise a drink to boy he once knew and hope that he’ll get the chance to know who he is now. Harry raises his drink in return, his head cocked slightly to the side, before his eyes slide away and he turns back to his friends, saying something that makes them laugh and start gathering their things, downing drinks and heading towards the exit. He wonders what was said, but, it’s over now, whatever it was they had, could’ve had, might’ve had, and maybe he doesn’t get to know anymore. Whatever gets said after it’s over, that’s not his to know, not when he’s the one who did the ending. 

The only way to know what gets said after it’s over is to begin again, he thinks, wrapping on the familiar door, and he doesn’t really know what that means, but it feels right, feels solid like the wood beneath his hand, feels good like the sight of the person before him as the door gives way; no, he doesn’t know what it means but he wants to find out. He clears his throat.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

Harry opens the door wider, and steps aside.


	6. gryles + a lazy sunday

It’s late, later than Nick’s seen in a while, the dark outside full and encompassing, pressing in at the windows, the lamps outside muddled with mist and fog. He’s slouched on his couch, Pig’s head in his lap, scratching idly between her ears and debating his bed when he hears a key in the door. He’s more alert in seconds, sitting up when the door flies open, a familiar figure whirling in like a hurricane and Nick can’t help but laugh as he watches Harry hop from foot to foot as he gets his boots off, shakes the night from his hair and finally turns around, stumbling when he sees Nick for the first time, properly.

“Hi! Didn’t think you’d still be awake, was just going to climb in bed.” He steps into Nick’s space, hands on either side of his face, and smiles, that achingly familiar smile, still the same after so many years, dimpled and wide and full of love. “Nick? You alright?”

“Yeah, yes,” his hands find purchase on his hips and god, but he’s fond of this boy. “Harry you’re supposed to be on the other side of the world right now.”

He hmmmms, slowly, drawing it out. “Yes, well, never really where I’m supposed to be am I?”

“What’s the supposed to mean?”

“Nothing much, really. I’m just supposed to be here, with you, most of the time, I think. And I’m usually not.”

Nick frowns and brushes the flyaways from around Harry’s head back, and out of his face. “Are you okay, love? Everything alright with the boys?”

Harry leans down and kisses him, soft and slow and wonderful, and it’s so cliché but it’s like coming home every time. “They know I’m here, I fly back out tomorrow night.” He sighs against his mouth. “I just wanted a day with you.”

Nick gives him a little shake and a grin. “A whole day, wow, I’m honored popstar.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him and tugs him up, off the couch and into his arms, walking them backwards towards their bedroom.

One day, that’s okay, good even; one day that he didn’t know he’d have with Harry, well, he’ll always take it.

He takes the rest of the night as well, not keen on losing any of their time together. He traces the skin he’d memorized long ago, with his hands and his eyes and his mouth, lingers over his favorite bits; his inner elbow, his hips, the delicate ankles and long, long fingers: slides his own through downy hair, across eyebrows and cheekbones, scrapes light teeth over collarbones and pushes them closer, closer until there’s no space left between them and then closer still, because there will never be a time when he doesn’t want to be closer to Harry. It’s just not possible.

And when they wake up in the morning he knows there’ll be early Sunday morning sunshine climbing the walls, strips of the new day laid out on the bed sheets, curled around the two of them, curled around each other. It’ll be quiet, a perfect, simple kind of quiet that comes from so many days, an innumerable amount of hours and sunrises spent like this, together and warm and loved with nowhere to go but to the kitchen for coffee and then back; back to each other and to bed, to whispered words and wandering hands. He knows because it won’t be the first time, nor the last. They’re Nick’s favorite days, ones like this, even though he knows they never last.

Morning does find them, eventually, finds them with tired but settled eyes, just the way Nick knew it would, and the first words to greet the day are from Harry, sleep rough and serious.

“I want to come out.”

They’re still curled together, propped up on pillows and chests, reluctant to let go of the feel of the other person’s skin, even for a moment, and Nick looks down at the boy resting above his heart and smiles softly.

“I know, love. You will.”

Harry’s hair tickles him when he shakes his head.

“No, now. I want to come out right now, just,” he smiles, small and soft, the one Nick’s only ever seen a handful of times, “take a picture and let that be it.”

Nick doesn’t say anything for a minute, just keeps carding his hand through Harry’s curls and thinks. There’s almost nothing he wants more than to hold hands with Harry in public, kiss him here and there, let his hands linger when the mood strikes, not have to worry about keeping the absolute adoration off his face, but he also knows Harry, knows his need to make big changes when every other decision feels out of his hands. “You know that won’t just be it though, love. It’ll be everywhere and you’re flying back out to America tonight. What happened to waiting until next year?”

Harry flaps his hand around a bit, the universal sign for this and that, but Nick knows better, knows him better and stays silent, waiting him out.

“I’m just ready, we’re ready, and everyone’s, y'know, Louis’ going to be a dad and Liam’s so happy doing the writing thing and Niall’s already got offers for gigs and appearances and,” he takes a deep breath and Nick wishes he would look at him. “I want this, Nick.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it, everyone splitting apart after so long together, they all have to feel slightly off balance and unnerved, it would be impossible not to, not after having based their lives around one another for so, so long.

“Harry, you can’t,” he pushes himself up, sitting straight up, forcing Harry to do the same, “just come out because your boys all have plans and you feel a bit untethered.”

The room goes still, and Nick knows he’s mucking this whole conversation up but he can’t have this be some spur of the moment decision, he can’t risk losing this.

“It’s not that, Nick, fuck you know I’ve always wanted to come out, to be out from the very beginning.”

Nick reaches out, but it’s too late, Harry’s already standing and pacing the floor next to him. “And it was always supposed to happen when I’m standing next to you.” He stops mid step and turns to face the bed. “You know that, Nick, why are saying no?”

“Everything is changing in a few months, I just don’t want you to regret doing it so quickly. Without warning anybody.”

“Everyone who matters knows, Nick! Why would I regret something I’ve been wanting to do for ages, unless-”

“Unless what, H?”

His voice is small, “unless you don’t want to.”

And this was never his intention, never wanted to make Harry seem small and unsure, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. He has a sudden flash of pick someone who’s supportive and oh, he’s an idiot, he’d blame the lack of sleep but no, he’s just an idiot.

“Of course I want to, Harry, c'mon. If I’m next to you,” he pauses, catches Harry’s hands and pulls him into the v of his legs, presses a kiss into the center of his chest. “If I’m next to you, then everything else is good.” He looks up and catches Harry’s eyes, holds them. “I’m sorry I’m rubbish, yes, absolutely, I support you and love you and if you want to come out then I say let’s do it.”

Harry’s eyes all but disappear when he smiles and he wraps his arms around Nick’s neck, pushing him backwards onto the bed, clinging to him, grin pushed into his bare chest, voice breathless and muffled when he speaks, a simple: "Yeah?“

"Yeah.” He shifts down so they’re face to face, places kisses across every part of his face he can get to without unlocking Harry’s arms from his neck. “I love you. Sorry I ruined our Sunday.”

“I love you too. And I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

Nick raises his eyebrows and Harry wiggles away to get his phone from the bedside table before turning back into him and raising it above their heads, a questioning look on his face. Nick just nods, face pressed into Harry’s, nose against his smiling, dimpled cheek and waits for the flash.


	7. tomlinshaw + facing a fear

Louis isn’t afraid of anything. He doesn’t let himself be is the thing, even when the fear is gnawing at his belly and scratching at his brain, he stamps it down, covers it up as much as he can with other things, better things, any other thing, because if he took his fears out and looked at them; looked them in the eyes and stared them down, he knows he’d never survive. His list of fears is wild and long, full of things scratched out and re-written, paper tattered and torn, yellowed with time and handling, crumpled edges from hiding it away so carelessly. But do you know what happens to fears left unattended? They grow. They evolve and multiply until they no longer resemble the original fear at all, they’re bigger, scarier, louder: the gnawing sharper, the scratches deeper. They grow and grow and grow until they’re as much a part of you as anything else, these fears, they’re as much you as the beat of your heart or the breath in your lungs. And you can hold your breath until your head is light, vision fuzzy, limbs thick but the need for air will always win and you will always, always, open your mouth.

“Love.”

Nick had been laughing, lording a spider over his head. Giggling like an idiot and grinning like a fool. "What’re you so afraid of, love?”

And Nick hadn’t mean for the endearment to double as a suggestion, but there it was and they both heard it, can’t unhear it; it’s hovering in the air, it’s in their eyes and hearts and minds, the thing that brought them together, and the thing that may keep them apart. They’ve gotten through everything else, and all that’s left is themselves. They stand there. 

“And you.”

Fear is a motivator, and it’s constantly telling Louis to run, run, run, and so he does. 

He comes back, because if there’s one thing Louis’ afraid of more than being left, it’s turning into all those others before him and doing the leaving. He stands at Nick’s door, hesitant and cold, arm raised to knock. It opens before he can will his hand to move and he swallows his cowardice, shoves it down next to everything else he tries to hide and opens his mouth instead. 

“I’m so fucking scared of you. Of this. But you knew that already, you know me so well and that’s even more terrifying, Nick, you know all this stuff about me and I’m waiting for you to give up. To decide that I’m not worth it.”

There’s silence, and Louis’ had enough of feeling scared.

“I’m not-”

“Don’t. Do not think about finishing that, Louis." 

He’s seen a lot of Nick, seen his different sides and temperaments; the way his eyes go soft when he’s around children, his smile when he’s on the phone with his mum, his nervous laugh, his excited, happy, deprecating, full body laughs, and he knows this too. Knows the way he gets when people put down those he loves, he’s seen him harden and sneer, cold as anything to those deserving and his eyes, his eyes right now hold none of the warmth they did when they’d woken up this morning, the warmth he’d reveled in, unashamed and free.

"You can’t protect me from me, Nick. Just because I don’t say it aloud doesn’t mean I don’t still hear it.”

Nick’s face is fierce and his hands are tight when he reaches out, takes him by the arms, drags him into the flat, back against the door once it’s closed. "No. No, but I can try. Because that’s what love is. Protecting and trying and all that. Louis, I love you, and I’m terrified too. Of course I am.“

Louis lets his head fall forward until it hits the solid wall of Nick’s chest, his hands still wrapped around his arms, but gentler now, soft enough for comfort, but firm enough to be real. 

"Why are we both so fucked that love scares us more than anything else?” He feels Nick’s shrug. “I do though, love you. Too.”

“Well, we’re on the same page then, with that. Maybe that’s enough?”

Louis straightens himself up to look Nick in the eye, and he looks like he feels, worn out and tired of fighting, not with each other but with themselves, but there’s a light in his eyes, and a quirk to his lips that speak of so much more, and that, that more, more than anything settles it in his mind. They’re scared, but they’re together, and fears are better conquered when you’re not alone. 

“Kiss me.”

Nick does, and it’s everything; warm and welcoming, the kind that starts something burning at the tips of his toes and works its way up until his whole body is more alive and thrumming, everything outside of the slide of their lips is muddled and calm, big hands a brand on his hip and the back of his neck, it’s a kiss that speaks for all kisses, and Louis can’t do anything but rise up slightly onto his toes and wind his arms around Nicks neck, clinging and being clung to in return.

He pulls back ever so slightly.

“Kiss me like you love me.”

Nick does, and it’s the exact same.


	8. tomlinshaw

Nick’s birthday is a Big Deal. He absolutely adores it, a whole day dedicated to his birth, celebrating him, of course he loves it, who doesn’t love birthdays? So when the first birthday after they officially get together rolls around, Louis wants to make it count. They’ve not been together very long and Louis’ still finding his place among Nick’s friends and places and things, but he’s wily and persistent, two things he prides himself on to help get him through whatever situation he finds himself in. In this case, dating Nicholas Grimshaw.

He’s going to need some help.

He calls in reinforcements after two days of pacing and panicking and increasingly frequent google searches ranging from: ‘awesome birthday ideas for new boyfriends’ which somehow led to a YouTube spiral of cat videos to ‘funny yet cool birthday ideas suitable for hipsters who love their dog more than their boyfriend’ which led to another YouTube video spiral, this time with puppies. His reinforcements, namely Harry and Niall and Liam, because being honest, they’ve helped him with all his other schemes and he’s not about to let them stop just because his schemes aren’t taking place on a stage anymore, are currently sat in a circle, around his kitchen table, discussing his options.

“What’s your goal here, mate?” 

Ah, yes, he thinks, good ole Liam, always focused on the final product. If only he knew what that was.

He thinks. “Well, Payno, I’d quite like to get laid at the end of the night-”

“Oh no, nope,” Niall throws his hands up. “I fully support you and Nick and all that you get up to when you’re alone but this is not why you called me here, in the middle of the night, without even putting any tea on.”

Louis pauses, looks out the window then down at his phone. Oh, he thinks, it is the middle of the night. He’d wondered why Harry’d fallen asleep, he doesn’t think he’s that boring. This is a Very Important issue they’re dealing with here. He puts some tea on.

Louis’d lost track of time a few days ago when Nick had jumped on him when he’d gotten home from work and pronounced, very loudly with arms raised high, that B day was upon them, so close, ten days away, so it could’ve been a few minutes or an hour later when Harry finally raises his head from the table, silencing the others brainstorming. They were currently working on something to do with skywriters, but weren’t quite sure how to get Nick to look up without making it obvious.

Harry gathers his hair up in a bun and says, “just tell him you love him.”

Louis gasps. “I do not, Harold, how dare you insinuate-”

“Lou. You’ve done things for his birthday before you were together, why is now different?”

He opens his mouth to argue, but Niall cuts him off. “And don’t say the sex, we all know that started before you two were proper together.”

He tries again, but Liam beats him to it. “Don’t be a liar, Tommo, no one likes a liar.”

Right. Well.

He sends his reinforcements to bed, because it is the middle of the night and it’s the nice thing to do, also, fat lot of help they were. Honestly. Love. What on earth gave them that idea, he’d never know. He’s about to check in with google again, but his phone buzzes in his hand before he can get there and it’s from Nick. A string of emojis: the two boys holding hands, cactus, camel, star, pineapple, magnifying glass, and the vibrating heart.

And wow, he thinks, this is love.

He sends back the eyes, the fist, bunny, lemon, tea, balloon, the swirling hearts and the sunglasses face before getting out a piece of paper and getting to work.

Nick finds his list two days later, because of course he does. Also Louis may or may not have accidentally left it sitting on the kitchen table. If pressed he’ll just blame Harry, who, come to think of it, he didn’t actually see leave the other day. He reminds himself to check the guest rooms later. 

The list is short, with most things crossed out, either too simple or too ridiculous, even for him:

Surprise party (too late to plan, next year?)  
Call in to show (probably should come out first, talk to Nick)  
Surprise trip (where, when, already going to Ibiza)  
Skywriters (saying what? How do I get him to look up????)  
A car  
Restaurant date (boring, nothing new)  
Clothes  
Tell him I love him

“Lou. Love.” Nick waves the offending paper in front of his face. “What’s this then?” He’s grinning, eyes crinkled and Louis has to turn away to hide his own. “I’ve no idea, Nicholas, none at all, now are you going to help me cook or just stand there all evening?”

Nick snorts and hands Louis his phone, their favorite takeaway place already on the screen. “There you are, helpful enough?”

Louis nods his ascent and orders their usual, hopping up onto the kitchen counter. Nick makes room for himself in the v of his legs, hands resting on his hips, the list sitting innocently beside them. Louis drops the phone once he’s rung off and places his hands on Nick’s shoulders instead and decides to go for honesty. He’s growing up, he is. 

“I didn’t know what to do for your birthday. I wanted it to be special but. Nothing I thought of was good enough.”

Nick noses at his cheek, then slides up and closer, his mouth by Louis’ ear. “If I had a choice, I’d really quite like the last one, if it’s true.” He places a small kiss on his cheek and pulls back, eyes wide and happy, teeth biting into his lower lip as he waits, gauging Louis’ reaction.

Louis moves his hands to cup the back of Nick’s neck and takes a deep breath. “It is, yeah.” He grins. “I love you.”

Nick closes the tiny space between them and kisses him, softly, gently, reverently. Lovingly. “Happy birthday to me.”

Louis’ laugh is wild, unruly and happy, spilling out of him. “You’re an idiot.”

His laugh is infectious, and Nick can’t help but join in. He’s still laughing slightly when he says: “I love you too,” and it feels right. 

(Louis does eventually end up doing everything on the list. Yes, even the skywriters. They write: hey idiot, will you marry me?)


	9. paynlinshaw

Liam brings Louis home one day; home to the place he shares with Nick, has shared with Nick for ages, a home that’s warm and loved and full; full of each other, Liam’s smile and Nick’s laugh; languid kisses in the hallway, and soft music playing in the kitchen on soft Sunday mornings, dancing around on clumsy socked feet. It’s full of all the memories they’ve collected over the past year, full of the feeling that’s slowly crept up on them- crept into bones and hearts and minds, it’s a forever kind of feeling and it feels like everything Liam’s ever wanted, ever dreamt of having. A place to go, a lighthouse in the dark, shining and strong.

Liam brings Louis home, and Nick welcomes them in with a soft, soft smile and kind eyes, eyes that hold a promise and speak of secrets kept and jokes told, tell of happiness and family, contentment and hope, the kind of hope Louis’ longed for, has searched for, thinks he’s finally found. He leads them deeper inside, curls his hands around each of theirs, long fingers winding around trembling ones, shaky with nerves and fear of the unknown, shaky like all the anticipation and possible joy is too much to stay inside, has to find a way out-out into the world, into the heat of this place-of this house and the hearts that call it and make it home.

Liam brings Louis home, Nick welcomes them in, and they curl together on the couch, the three of them, Louis bracketed in on either side, surrounded by the two people he’s always loved, but never allowed himself to be with, never allowed himself to build a home with, to even imagine building a home, a life, an everything with, and he looks at them, calm and steady, the two bits of his heart made whole, and thinks ‘could we be enough’ and god he wants it-wants it so much it’s an ache all over. His feet ache to tangle with theirs, his legs crave to brush against theirs in sleep, his hands long to touch and trace and memorize and feel, his arms to hold and tongue to taste and eyes to drink their fill, his ears yearn to know their heartbeats, beating one, two, three and love and you, yearns to know if it matches his own, always, always beating for them, steady on: one, two, three, Louis, Liam, Nick. And as if by magic, as if love was not already a form of magic, there’re hands on his chest, over his heart, hands on his skin-too warm and too much and voices in his ear saying, ‘we could be enough’.

Liam brings Louis home and Nick welcomes them in and they curl together. 

Louis stays.


	10. gryles

Harry remembers in pictures. 

Flashes of brilliance, of happiness, of smiles; laughter frozen, silent and still-dozens and dozens of images in bright technicolor that scream at him, daring him to look away, to think about something else, anything else but what he’s lost, what he chose to lose, in the end. He remembers the way Nick smiled when they first met: hopelessly charming and recklessly charmed, when they first kissed: small and quiet, glowing with promise, when they would say goodbye: rueful and sad, when they woke up together: close lipped and private, he remembers it all. 

And each picture brings with it all the tiny bits that made up the moment, what they’d said, how he felt, what he thought, how they were: brave and free, small and loved, tired and worn, perfect and whole. And happy, god, he’d been so happy. 

He remembers their last words like lightning strikes during a storm- quick and powerful, all consuming, hitting their mark again and again and again until nothing was left but the smell of scorched earth and the feeling of hair standing on end, heartbeats racing and nothing left to face but the end. He remembers in pictures; hurt faces and feelings, curled trembling hands, cold eyes and sharp mouths, pointing fingers and knee jerk reactions, sees red and pain and hurt and still, buried deep, all the god damn love that frames every image, all the pictures he keeps tucked away, and the ones that circle constantly, taunting and haunting, never letting him go.

Everywhere he turns there’s one, another memory, another picture, another flash: (snap: the way Nick’s eyes would crinkle when he made a terrible joke, snap: his teeth biting into his lower lip that first time Harry said I love you, snap: him and pig asleep on their couch, snap: his fingers tracing the ‘N’ tattoo on Harry’s wrist, slowly, reverently, his lips following the same path seconds later, snap: Nick, snap: Nick, snap: Nick) and it doesn’t matter that years have passed, come and gone in between one blink and the next, passing by and through with little left behind but a hollow feeling that grows and sinks deeper into him with every phone call, text, letter that goes unanswered. 

It doesn’t matter if it hurts, or if it’s too late, because at least he can say he tried and he’s so, so tired of running. No, it doesn’t matter because it’s what brought him here, to this door, right now, that hollow feeling ringing with all the things left unsaid.

He clears his throat. 

“Hello.”


	11. paynlinshaw

Nick’s laughing before the video connection even finishes loading and Liam grins, automatically. It’s one of his favorite sounds in the world, Nick’s laugh, along with the way Louis snuffles in his sleep, the sound of rain on windows and the first chords of a new song. Nick’s off screen when the picture finally comes up but Liam can hear him in another part of the room, getting ready for the day, voice slightly muffled through his speakers:

“Answer me a question Liam Payne! I distinctly remember you, me, Louis and a pool not too long ago and yet you say you’ve never skinny dipped in a hotel before. Am I going crazy? Do you have a secret twin? Is Louis in on it?”

He can hear Liam’s grin, picture his eyes crinkling up, when he answers. “So you watched the show then?”

Nick’s scoff is clear. “Might’ve seen some clips. Saw some of your soundcheck too, you sounded great.”

The picture tilts as Nick gets back on the bed and he smiles at the picture the other two make when he gets a good look at his screen; Liam propped up against a headboard and Louis curled under his arm, eyes closed and hair down and soft. Liam smiles back at him, small and quiet, if a smile can be quiet- Nick thinks they can, quiet in the way they speak of so much -he can read love and tiredness and pride; want and need and home all in that tiny upward turn- he can read everything he wants to say and hear without a word being said and he breathes out, watching his boys.

“Hi.” Liam’s voice is quiet too, like the hand carding through Louis’ hair. “He tried to wait up for you.”

Nick leans forward, face slightly more serious, wishing he could magically jump through the screen and into that bed. “He okay? Didn’t catch whatever it was Harry had?”

“No, just a headache I think. Change in pressure or something, started not feeling well on the plane and haven’t really had a chance to stop long enough for it to go away.”

Nick nods, culling the urge to place his fingers on his screen. “Couldn’t tell when you were performing though-all the bits I saw were very good.”

Liam looks down at the sleeping figure against him, eyes going dark with something Nick can’t parse from his angle. “He was so scared to do that note.”

Nick knows then, what the look is, sure it’s mirrored on his own. “Didn’t need to be.” And the pride on his face must come out in his voice because Liam looks back up at him, face soft and beautiful and so, so warm.

“Thank you.”

He cocks his head to the side. “For what, love?”

Liam shrugs as best he can with Louis heavy at his side. “For this. For not thinking I was crazy when I mentioned it. For saying yes.” He clears his throat. “For loving him as much as I do.”

Nick can’t help but give into temptation and he reaches out, fingers brushing the planes of their faces across all these miles. “Of course. Of course, Liam. I wouldn’t-” he thinks about before and how good it was, how he didn’t think it could get any better, until it did, amazingly. It got so much better. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Liam breathes out through his nose, closes his eyes. “Yeah. Same, Nick. You know that. I feel the same.”

Nick watches them, the two of them-and god, he never thought he could be so in love, never thought he’d get to have this. Never thought he’d get so close to a person, to two people, that he’d be able to read them from so far away.

“Tired?”

Liam shifts and nods. “Sorry, I know we don’t get a lot of time.” He opens his eyes and meets Nicks gaze. “Tomorrow, yeah?”

Nick nods. “Go to sleep, love.” He touches his fingers to his lips then to the computer. “Take care of him.”

“Always do.”

Nick knows. They take care of each other.

Liam goes to sign off but stops when Nick leans forward again. “Just. Leave it, yeah?”

It’s quiet for a moment before a soft snort works it’s way out of Louis. “Way to be a creep Grimshaw.”

Nick can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of him as he meets Louis’ now open eyes. “You’re one to talk, love, how long’ve you been awake down there?”

Louis hides his grin in Liam’s chest. “You love me.”

“I do. Quite a bit.”

Louis’ smile softens. “Same, Nicholas. A lot, actually. Both of you.” He turns his head to place a kiss on Liam’s chest, over his heart. “Now let us sleep, some of us have big popstar lives y'know.”

Nick watches them rearrange, settle back down together on their sides and wants nothing more than to be there too. Arms and legs entwined on a mattress instead of hearts tangled over miles.

And maybe it’s sappy and slightly creepy, but he doesn’t care. He sits across from them; across from oceans and airwaves and computer screens and time zones-sits there until he absolutely has to move or he’ll be late-he sits across from his sleeping boys and loves them, loves them, loves them.


	12. nouis+ace

Louis loves Niall the way he loves the sunrise; beautiful and warm and full and new-every day, he wakes up sure that the sun has risen and that his love for Niall is still, constantly, consistently there-thrumming in his bones and through his blood, ever present and ever kind.

He’d always thought he wasn’t built for this kind of love. Thought that his brain and his heart would never match up-caught in the idea that no one would stay, not when there are things that he can’t-that he won’t do; feelings and actions that he’d never experience, because it wasn’t how he loved, it wasn’t him-and who would want a half formed thing-but a sunrise is a half formed thing too; half a circle, half a heart, a thing whole in and of itself, just like him, but half of something bigger-something more, something pure and complete; and Niall…Niall is his sunrise. Niall who Louis loves, so much and so earnestly, loves him with such truth that he can’t always wrap his brain or his heart around it.

It’s Niall who holds his heart and his hands like they’re precious, who gives and gives and never asks for anything more, who radiates good and is never harsh or brash or cruel, who shows him every day how he’s perfectly built for this exact love-who takes his Truths and turns them into Facts; knows him down to the very core, builds him up and brings him out of his head-accepts him, wants him in whatever way Louis gives, regardless and irregardless. Niall who cups his face and kisses his cheek, combs his hair off his forehead, holds him when they sleep, and stays and stays and stays-always there, always present-as sure as the sun will rise.


	13. gryles+ kid fic

Okay, so it’s Harry’s daughters first birthday, and yes, he may have gone a tad overboard. May, being the key word, he may have gone overboard; he may be stood in his kitchen, clutching a chicken, his kitchen may be covered with enough food to feed a hundred people, though some of it may be on the floor now, and it may be possible that there’s a horse outside, munching on his tulips, a small one, a pony. Maybe. Is this overboard? Totally, completely debatable.

What’s not up for debate is the fact that his husband, his amazing, wonderful, kind-hearted husband, who’s currently laughing at him, full on, door way clutching, gasping for breath, red in the face laughing at him-is an asshole. He’d punch him but he’s still holding a chicken. He should set the chicken on him-that’d teach him to laugh in someone’s face. Honestly.

Nick must see something in Harry’s face though, sense the impending chicken attack because he does eventually sober and push himself upright. “Haz. Harry. My lovely Harry Styles.” He pauses. Tries to contain a giggle. “Why’ve you got a chicken?”

Harry tries to blow his hair out of his face while still maintaining a look of complete and utter control. “It’s for Jules.”

“….and the….is that a horse?”

“Niiiiiick.” And Harry can hear the whine in his voice but he’s dealt with a lot this morning, what with the unreliable petting zoo guy and the chicken that got loose in the house, and Harry prays Nick hasn’t seen the busted lamp in the living room, and his ruined flowers. He loved those flowers; they were Nicks favorite.

“Oh, love.” He comes closer. “Can you, maybe, put down the bird? Outside, like? So I can hug you.”

Harry does, and Nick does, and once he’s in his arms Harry drops his head onto his shoulder and sighs. “I may have gone a little overboard.”

Nicks laugh is loud in his ear and sounds like home. “Yeah, popstar, just a bit.”

He pulls back and looks him in the eye. “She’ll love it though. She loves everything you do.”

Harry shrugs, and looks down, kicks his shin. Mumbles, “just wanted it to be special.”

Nick grins, knocks him under the chin. “Go get her up, then, she’s got a chicken to meet.”

Harry smiles back at him, dimple deep, kisses him quick and runs towards the stairs. “Love you.”

And Nick won’t admit it because it’s far too sappy, but no matter what the day brings, it’ll be special. It always is, when he’s with them.


	14. lilo+playing with someone's hair & falling asleep on someone

Liam is, despite Louis’ insistence otherwise, not cold or wound too tight or a robot or have something shoved up his ass or need something shoved up his ass. He just wants to do well, he wants to take everything he can from what they’ve been lucky enough to stumble into, lucky enough to be given, because he knows what it’s like to not have it anymore, and he never, never wants to feel that way again. He’s not entirely sure what he’d do if he lost this all over again, especially now that he has these boys. They’re a part of his dream now too, and he clings tightly to his dreams, always has.

But Louis is slippery by nature, constantly moving and stretching, poking and prodding and Liam can never seem to hold onto him for very long, definitely never long enough to get a strong grasp on him, to see how he works, to understand him. And he can’t seem to make him understand that sometimes, please, sometimes, he just needs to-

“Shut up. And work.”

The room freezes, everyone gone completely and utterly still; Liam can hear a clock on the wall ticking away awkward second after awkward second until he’s faced with Louis-eyes flashing and thin, mouth curled up.

“What’d you say, Liam? I don’t think I heard you over your self righteous tone, mate.”

He stutters, and god, he hates that, he’s not scared of Louis and he doesn’t want to fight. He just wants to work.

“J-just forget it. Let’s just go again, yeah?”

“No, I think if you have something to say you need to say it.” Louis’ dangerously close to Liam, barely any space left between them and Liam hates it. Hates that he can make him feel so wrong, like he’s coming out of his skin-like his skin doesn’t belong to him anymore. Like he’s small.

Liam just turns away from him, though. Back towards his mic, towards the goal. “Can we just rehearse, please?” He feels Louis’ eyes on him, boring in like he could see through Liam’s shirt and into his chest, but he turns away without another word. Goes back to his spot and they continue. Steady on. 

He can’t sleep, later on. The house is quiet and still and he doesn’t turn on any lights as he makes his way to the kitchen to make tea, feeling his way through newly familiar hallways, around corners and doors. He startles, slightly, when the kitchen comes into view and he finds himself with company.

Louis’ sitting on the counter, feet swinging idly as he waits for the kettle to boil, doesn’t look up when Liam comes forward and grabs another mug from the cabinet right next to him, doesn’t say anything until Liam’s run out of things to do to occupy his hands, and even then it’s small, rolling off his tongue like a well worn thought.

“What. What can I do to make you like me?”

The only sound from the room comes from their breaths, and Liam can’t make himself look up until Louis’ pinky wraps itself around his wrist.

“Lou. I.”

He shakes his head, pulls his hands away from the counter, gestures between the two of them.

“Everyone knows it’s the other way around.”

Louis shakes his head, a tiny, harsh movement but doesn’t raise his eyes from his hands.

“No. Liam I think you’re great. Always have.” His voice is quiet, still small like it so rarely is and Liam steps a little closer, pulled in by it’s cadence and the underlying steel underneath. “I’m always thinking that if I was more clever or funny, if I could just make you laugh.” He huffs out a breath. “Then maybe you wouldn’t think it was a mistake.”

“Think what’s a mistake?” He’s quiet too, feels almost like he has to be, needs to be.

Louis finally looks up, meets his eyes and Liam’s almost tempted to turn on the light, to see if his eyes really look like he thinks they do, shiny and hurt, or if it’s just a trick of the shadows. “Me being here. Being a part of this.”

He rocks back on his heels, just slightly and Louis closes his eyes again, avoiding whatever he sees written in Liam’s face.

“I would never, Louis, I couldn’t. I do think you belong here. Belong with us. I just.” He stops, thinks, then steps further into Louis’ space, stomach pressed into the coolness of the counter and raises his hand. Hesitantly brushes the other boys hair back from where it’s falling over his eyes. “I’m not used to this, y'know? The touching and the noise. It normally only hurt when someone outside of my family touched me. It was never in fun, and sometimes. Um.”

Louis pushes into Liam’s hand and blinks up at him, lips turned down and forehead scrunched up. “Liam did I. I never meant to remind you of them. You know that right? I’ve always just wanted you to enjoy this.” He sounds desperate, pleading almost. “You’ve got to know that.”

And Liam can see it. How the lines of communication, of their communication could get so easily tangled, sees Louis’ tired and truthful eyes and he sighs. “Yeah. I know, Tommo.”

He tenses for a second when Louis tips forward and places his forehead on his shoulder, hears his whispered ‘I’m sorry’ and wills himself to relax; he matches his breathing to Louis’ and continues to scratch his nails through his hair, everything soft and muted and small. It feels a bit like an understanding rather than a stalemate.

He flicks the kettle off, tea all but forgotten and he’s content to just be, to let Louis sleep just a minute longer, resting on his shoulder; a weight he’s happy to carry, because here, in the dark of this room, with this boy, he’s at peace.


	15. paynlinshaw

“Do we have, like, one of those,” he waves his arms around, head swiveling around the room like whatever it is he’s looking for is going to magically pop up if he looks away then back every ten seconds.

“One of those what?”

But he’s not listening, Liam’s not even sure Louis knows he’s there, still spinning around their kitchen like a mini tornado, opening cabinets, leaving them that way when he doesn’t find what he needs then almost braining himself on his next lap around. As amusing as it is, and Liam’s finding it very, very amusing, today is a somewhat important day and he’d really like for his boyfriend to be conscious for the whole thing, so he does what any other good person would do in this slightly insane situation and steps into the line of fire.

“Lou.” He holds his hands out in front of him because Louis’ looking a tad manic and seriously, what the fuck is he looking for?

“Liam. Oh thank god, Liam, do we have something to put the food on?”

“Like…plates? Tommo are you feeling okay? I know it’s a big night, but even you know we have plates.”

Louis’ hands are in the air again and he ducks reflexively. “This is not about plates, Liam! I know we have bloody plates!”

He dodges the flailing limbs to settle his hands on Louis’ shoulders and squeezes. Hard. Eyes the flush on his cheeks and the sweat on his brow; bends down to look him in the eyes.

“Tell me what’s going through your head.”

Louis goes tense under his hands. “I don’t even know! I need something to put the food on before it goes to the plates, this needs to be good, okay, it needs to be great! Liam this is a big deal! It’s not every day you ask someone to go on a date with you AND your boyfriend! There’s no protocol for this!”

Liam drags him in, a hand on the back of his neck, the other at the small of his back and hides his smile in his neck. Bites down gently on the skin there and waits for Louis to settle.

He sighs. “What are we doing, Liam?”

“We’re asking someone we both fancy on a date.”

Louis pulls himself out of his grasp, eyes still wide but calmer, the excited glint back where it belongs. “I literally just said that, Payno.”

He catches Louis’ eyes and smirks, laughing out loud when he kicks him in the shin.

“Fucker.”

He’s still laughing when he walks over to a shelf and pulls out a serving platter, causing Louis to let out a tiny roar of anger and tackle him to the ground.

It takes more than a few minutes to sort themselves off and even longer to make it off the floor.   
______________

Nick shows up at their door right on time, well, is dropped off by a helpful and scheming Harry right on time and when the door flies open he greets them with a happy, if very confused smile. He’s led to the kitchen table willingly enough, and Liam’s about to ask him if he’d like a drink, be a good host and all that, when Louis pushes him down into a chair and blurts out:

“Would you like to go on a date with us?”

Liam’s head hits the table with a thud and if it was possible Nick’s jaw would probably do the same. It’s giving a valiant effort as it is.

“Um, both of you? Like, as one?”

“Like a cohesive unit, yes. A threesome date, without the actual threesome bit. Well, eventually, if it goes well then a threesome would be nice. But not a one off thing-”

Liam lifts his head only to drop it back down again.

“So a three off thing? You know, because there’s three of us? And we’d be getting off?”

Liam’s head hits the table again. And again. Louis sticks his hand between the wood and his forehead before a third can happen, and Liam decides to just rest there. It’s going well, all things considered. Nick hasn’t gone running out the door yet so there’s that. But Louis’ still talking, so there’s also that.

“That’s a terrible, terrible attempt at a joke, Grimshaw.”

Nick scoffs, hand to his chest. “Excuse me? Do you always insult the person you’re trying to date?”

Liam addresses the table. “Yes.”

Louis shoves his face up and he blinks at the sudden influx of light, focusing on the smile Nick is directing his way and tangles his hand with Louis’.

“I know it sounds strange. But I think- we think,” he amends, when Louis squeezes his hand. “We think it could be really good. And we both fancy you.”

Nick blushes and Liam wonders what it would feel like under his fingers. Louis must be feeling something similar if the way he’s squeezing his fingers is any indication, and he can’t help but to raise their combined hands up to lips and place a soft kiss on the offered knuckles. He catches Nick’s gaze, a look he can’t completely parse on the other mans face, but after a few seconds it curls itself into a small smile and Liam feels something unfurl in his chest, hope and love, adventure and the taste of new beginnings on his tongue. His question slips out before he can stop it.

“Yeah?”

Nick rocks his chair back on its hind legs and takes a deep breath, then pushes himself up and around to their side of the table, settling between them.

“Yeah. Yes. I would love that.” He smiles and Liam can see it all, how they’ll fit and how they’ll work. Can see it in both their faces. It’s gonna be good.

He can’t wait.


	16. louis+freddie

Louis knows words, always has, from the very beginning he’s known and understood their power and their truth, known of stories and tall tales, of fairy tales and myths. He knows the weight and heft of wonder and belief, the potential for hope that words can bring when strung right and sound. So he keeps his mouth open and fills the room with words; words that mix with the sun and bounce off the walls, words that cover them, warm them, wrap them up and hold them close. Words that make sentences and sentences that make paragraphs and paragraphs that make stories.

And with a tiny hand wrapped around his finger and his heart, he tells his favorite:

He speaks of a band of knights and all their tales: of kingdoms conquered and victories found, of songs sung and memories made. Tells of years that flashed by in the blink of an eye and hearts that were mended and held. He tells his story, theirs and ours and his, holds his happy ending closer and tells of the road that led him there. Softly, gently; talks of lights and voices and warmth, of brothers and family and protection, all while wondering how such a little body can hold all the love it’s been given, is glad it won’t ever know any different.

Someday, sometime, somewhere in the far off future when it can’t be ignored and must be taught, when the fairy tale ends and the truth begins and not a day before he will teach him of the real world; of battles lost and wars won, of titles held and given away. Of hearts made to be open and still, still broken.

But for now, for tonight and tomorrow and as long as he can; he holds his son, his life in his hands, he holds him closer and weaves the story of his life into a fairy tale, because that’s what it is, is it not, in the end?


End file.
